"Don't let me go."
"Don't worry, I won't ever let you go. I promise."
Ikari's scar is the first thing that people notice. And it drives them away, since it is the symbol of her father, one of the most feared villains of all time... before he died.
...
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**warning: violence, death, smoking
POV— Hebinoya Ikari
Backstory
Don't let me go.
It happened when I was seven.
When my whole world fell apart.
When everything went up in flames,
turned into ashes,
and smoldered up into the sky.
Don't let me go.
All I could remember was that it was dark.
Cold.
The only thing I felt was Shojiro's hand around mine. I squeezed it tight, so tight that I could barely feel my own fingers. An uncontrollable, heaving wave of fear pressed at my chest, refusing to let go. I had given up trying to hold my fear back— it was pointless. My face was smeared with tears and saliva, but I did not bother to wipe them away. The room was silent except for my occasional sniffles and hiccups.
The three men that brought me here from the shooting were in the room as well, and one was at the door with a gun in his hand. Another two stood near us, and they produced a phone from their hands. The man on the left held the phone upright, casting an eerie gloom in the darkened room. He punches something into it, the dials ringing through the room. The mere sight of that made me shake so violently that I began to wail.
"Quiet!" The one with the phone yelled. Shojiro clamped his hand over my mouth. His hands shook, and so did his voice.
The phone rang for a few agonizing seconds. Moments later, someone picked up.
"Who is it?"
The voice was cold, emotionless. I couldn't decide which scared me more— the men or the voice.
"Mr. Hebinoya, we have your children. In order to see them alive again, meet us at the location we sent you in one hour with ten million yen in cash. If you're not there, your children will be dead."
The silence was deafening. So loud that I could hear my heartbeat banging at my rib cage, threatening to burst out if the tension stretched out any longer. My vision was blurred. Incomprehensible thoughts rushed through my head, all in a jumble, as if they were being scribbled down and forced into my head.
Whoisthismanwhyishesayingheismyfather—
"I'm afraid I cannot complete your request."
As soon as the words were uttered the other man had his hand around my wrist in a flash and I screamed, kicked, and punched at him. My wails echoed in the room, traveling all the way to the phone.
